


The Inevitable Domestic Mishap

by foxmulder_whereartthou



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dib is So Done (Invader Zim), Established Relationship, Fire, Living Together, M/M, Older Dib (Invader Zim), teen 2 b safe im scared, zim tries ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-04 19:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmulder_whereartthou/pseuds/foxmulder_whereartthou
Summary: "Is it on fire?""It could be MORE on fire."





	1. Chapter 1

After a long day of staring at test tubes and not much else, Dib returns home to a facefull of thick, black smoke pouring out of the kitchen windows in boiling waves. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies the kid across the road, mouth agape, staring in fascination at the half-burning house as his ice cream runs down his hand.    
However, rather disconcertingly, Dib pays the the fumes gushing out into the street no mind as he lets himself in, his bigfoot keychain jingling against the lock.

  
  
Half-lidded eyes slip and slide over the interior of the house; normal, for the most part, save a few extravagantly magenta fleece throws and investigative corkboards littered about the rooms. Nevertheless, when Dib’s tired gaze finds the kitchen door, the sound of excessive screaming reaching his ears, he twists the searing knob and walks through the threshold to find Zim, surrounded by pancake batter and an embarrassing amount of fire.

  
  
They’d only been living together in a refurbished version of Zim’s original base for a few months now, and Dib had been counting down the days until something, anything, inevitably went wrong.   
  
This was it, he decided.

  
  
Zim, suddenly noticing his presence, jaggedly turned on his heel and yelled, “OH HELLO, MY DIB. I WAS  _ JUST _ MAKING SOME  **NICE CAKES OF PAN** FOR WHEN YOU ARRIVED HOME,” and to enunciate the fact he was, in fact, making some nice ‘cakes of pan’ he waved around the frying pan, spreading the sea of flames.

Worryingly unconcerned for their living area, Dib merely asked, “Is it on fire?” in a vaguely bored tone.   
Zim shuffled his feet for a second, before helpfully replying, “It could be MORE on fire.”   
  
That was a fair point, Dib thought, it  _ could  _ be more on fire.

  
  
“SO, DIB-BOYFRIEND, HOW’S YOUR DAY BEEN?” Zim shrieked, having to shout above the crackle of the blaze as he attempted to lean on the half-disintegrated counter.    
“Oh, you know,” Dib replied, halfheartedly scratching the back of his neck, “Same old, same old.”   
  
“AH YES, ZIM IS  _ VERY _ FAMILIAR WITH THE SAME OLD.” Zim managed to force out before the rapid oxidation swelled and the two of them were blown forwards, slamming into the wall of the next room as the kitchen erupted into a scorching firestorm.

  
  
“Maybe it’s time to call the firemen.” Dib choked, his glasses broken along with a bone or two.   
Zim, his leg bent at a decidedly  _ wrong  _ angle, coughed, “Yes, seems so.”   
  
  



	2. Part Two: Dib Gets What He Should've Expected, Really.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> due to overeagerness and the fact that w o w, a lot of people like this fic (as well as a brilliant prompt from the lads on the discord) we have a second chapter. im so sorry

Fumbling with his cast as he unlocks the door, the first thing Dib notices after sauntering through the entryway to the dining room where Zim’s disembodied screeching voice had beckoned him - was that Zim was not wearing his gloves.    
  
Clearly, this was strange on its own - but with a closer look Dib easily saw inflamed skin, green stained black.

Although, in absolute honesty, he probably should've noticed that Zim was lying across the table like one of his french girls first.

  
  
If there was anything of note about last Saturday’s incident (other than a dented PAK and the not-so-clean break of Dib’s left arm, as well as the destruction of their entire kitchen), it was that Zim was deeply mortified about the fact that he could not cook Dib a simple meal - something he had made a very large, very loud deal of in the waiting room at the hospital.   
  
His profoundly humiliated boyfriend had sobbed for hours about the fact that he could not complete this seemingly easy courting gesture, and the only thing that could effectively calm him down and shut him up at the end of the day was some episodes of Star Trek and some snide comments of how inaccurate it was.

  
  
The next day, however, Dib did not expect to come home to more smoke. This time, having learnt from past experience, he was considerably cautious.   
  
Gently nudging the door open with his bad arm, Dib was only a few steps in before he saw the aforementioned gloveless, scalded fingers, a smoking candelabra on the table, and some almost-inedible plates of food.   
Also, laid out of the table like the charred remains of whatever Zim had attempted to cook, was Zim himself, lying (somewhat, awkwardly seductively?) across a silver platter.

  
  
_ Oh god, _ Dib thought, with increasing horror,  _ That had really hurt his pride, hadn’t it? _ __   
But, obviously, the entire situation was also getting more hilarious the more he thought about it. __   
  
These were the results of his hubris, and god _ damn _ , was Dib going to make the most of it.   
And he took a seat. __   
  


So here he was - sitting in front of a very flustered, very burnt alien as he attempted to force down the literal pieces of charcoal in front of him.   
“H…. How was work, Dib-uh. Dib-” Zim quickly consulted whatever he’d scribbled down on his palm, “Dib-Pudding.”   
  
It took everything within Dib not to double over and sob with laughter, so he was essentially trapped in the purgatory of staring Zim straight in the eyes and trying to think of a response before the silence became too prolonged and too uncomfortable.

  
  
Boy, was he in for a long night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me. there may be more.

**Author's Note:**

> me, sobbing: discord, pls, give me mercy, ive written 4 fics in the past two days  
lithy and holli, t-posing over my corpse: n e v er


End file.
